


Normal Be Damned (And Other Tales of Potentially Lethal Kinky Activities)

by Plasma_gore (FanFictionIsMyWeakness)



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Blood Kink, Blowjobs, Come Eating, Come Swallowing, Coming Untouched, Explicit Sexual Content, Knife Play, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Praise, gore kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:47:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26492884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanFictionIsMyWeakness/pseuds/Plasma_gore
Summary: Richie supposes that it isn’t exactly normal to want to tear your partner’s skin open and feel around their insides, nor is it all too common to imagine them covered in sticky red blood, skin sliced open like raw meat. And, yeah, okay -maybe it isn’t normal to think about scooping out his boyfriend’s eyes and crushing them in his hands, maybe he shouldn’t want his cock jammed down Eddie’s throat while he’s doing it, and he definitely shouldn’t be contemplating the grotesque while he’s got his hand wrapped around his dick in the showerOrShameless, and I mean absolutely shameless, PWP
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39





	Normal Be Damned (And Other Tales of Potentially Lethal Kinky Activities)

**Author's Note:**

> Long time no post, friends! This is what I'm coming back with. 
> 
> It's 2:30 in the morning and this is not proof read. We die like men.

Richie supposes that it isn’t exactly  _ normal _ to want to tear your partner’s skin open and feel around their insides, nor is it all too common to imagine them covered in sticky red blood, skin sliced open like raw meat. And, yeah, okay - _ maybe _ it isn’t normal to think about scooping out his boyfriend’s eyes and crushing them in his hands, maybe he shouldn’t want his cock jammed down Eddie’s throat while he’s doing it, and he  _ definitely _ shouldn’t be contemplating the grotesque while he’s got his hand wrapped around his dick in the shower. It’s not like he’s a fucking serial killer or anything, he doesn’t  _ actually  _ want to hurt Eddie -his sweet, gorgeous,  _ perfect _ Eddie spaghetti- he just thinks the blood would be pretty. Something about all that red, that sticky sweet, copper taste, and all skin and tendons and muscle, it all really gets to him. Bodies are  _ fascinating _ in every regard. Skin is precious and delicate, it tears so easily. Blood is red and thick and sticky. If Richie coated his dick in it, smothered it over his fingers, used it to ease that delicious stretch --fuck,  _ fuck _ . 

He cums against the shower wall and it’s  _ a lot _ . He grimaces and tries to wipe it off. Cum is another bodily fluid that drives Richie crazy, but only when it’s not his own. He thinks it would be weird to be enthralled by his own spunk. Although, maybe not as weird as-

Whatever. 

He finishes washing his hair like normal. Eddie basically beat it into him that he needs to keep the conditioner in his curls for a  _ long _ time, or else they get too frizzy. Richie doesn’t really give a shit what his hair looks like, but he supposes it’s nice not being told to brush it every few hours, Plus it’s shiny now. And bouncy and healthy, so he supposes he kind of owes Eddie for that one. Not that he’d ever say that -the smug look his boyfriend would give him would be permanently burned into his memory. Once his hair is clean and free of product and his body has been scrubbed down with  _ spring meadows _ scented soap, he turns the water off and steps out of the shower. The cool air feels nice and he smells good. The bathroom is steamy and warm. Eddie says it’s good for his pores. Richie has never cared to notice. He moisturizes his face, which is, once again, because of Eddie’s influence (seriously, who is that boy turning him into?) He then brushes his teeth and puts on his pajamas. It’s nearly ten pm and Eddie is in the living room watching  _ Guy’s Grocery Games _ without him, which is a seriously lame move. His boyfriend is such a little shit. They had Chinese food for dinner. 

The first thing Richie does when he steps out into the living room is kiss his boyfriend on the crown of his head. Eddie hums, no doubt smiling, and reaches up to cup Richie’s cheek. His fingers feel soft and sweet, gentle in their every touch a movement. It makes Richie’s heart melt. 

“You smell nice.” Eddie says. 

“Did I not before?” Richie asks, and he’s grinning. 

“Obviously not. You were practically sweating MSG.” 

Richie laughs and gives Eddie’s cheek a light pat, mumbling about how he’s a little brat under his breath. He strolls into the kitchen, lightly running his fingertips over the handles of their knives. Not for any other reason than his fantasies have followed him out of the shower and now he’s hyper fixating on red. 

“How are you feeling gorgeous?” He asks and glances over at Eddie, who’s attention has shifted from the television to Richie. Eddie hums low in his throat. He’s usually up for whatever debauchery Richie’s suggested, but some things are more intense than others and he has to be in the right head space to enjoy them. Richie is not oblivious to this, especially considering the circumstances are not all too different for his own head spaces. Drop is a real thing, regardless of the side it comes from, and the last thing either of them would want is to experience drop during a particularly brutal scene. So Richie always asks what Eddie’s up for before suggesting anything. It helps establish clear boundaries before any real power exchange can begin.

Eddie’s eyes glance at where Richie’s fingers are placed, delicately glazing over the handles of their kitchen knives, as if he has  _ ideas _ . He shivers in his place, which is as good an indication as any that he likes wherever this is about to go. His eyes meet Richie again, and they’re blown wide. It makes Richie prideful.  _ He’s _ doing that, he’s the one making Eddie feel all flustered and weak and he hasn’t even  _ done _ anything yet. “I need your words, baby.” He says, gently nudging Eddie to respond. 

“Um,” Eddie says, and he squirms. It’s so fucking cute Richie could just explode. “I’m good.” 

“Yeah?” Richie asks, eyebrow raised. He unsheathes one of the knives from the knife block. It’s his favorite, big and sharp with a handle that sits just perfect in his hands and a blade that’s more than easy to control. He takes a step toward Eddie, grin still displayed on the corner of his lips. “How good are you?” 

Eddie doesn’t really get the chance to answer because suddenly there’s a knife at his throat, the sharp tip of the blade pointed dangerously close to his jugular. Richie’s free hand reaches around to grip the hair at the back of his head, pulling it back and giving him more access to that  _ gorgeous _ neck. He barely lets the tip of the blade run over Eddie’s skin. He hisses, but manages to keep from squirming. He’s much too smart for that, Richie muses. When he reaches Eddie’s collarbone, he adds just the smallest bit of pressure, making Eddie whimper. It’s probably the cutest little sound Richie’s ever heard. 

“Is this okay, baby?” He asks, and his voice is soft and low. Eddie whimpers again, a shudder going through his body. 

“Yes, sir.” He says. His voice sounds so weak. 

“I thought about you earlier.” Richie says almost absentmindedly. His grip on Eddie’s hair tightens and the knife makes its way back up the expanse of his throat. “In the shower.” Eddie swallows and Richie watches as his Adam’s apple bobs. 

“What did you think about?” He asks. There’s wetness beginning to form at the corners of his eyes. He’s trembling like he’s terrified. Richie snorts, releasing his hold on Eddie’s hair and dropping the knife back down to his side. He stands and walks to the other side of Eddie, pulling him into his lap so that his back is flush against Richie’s chest, and moves to place the edge of the blade at his throat once again. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” He murmurs against the shell of Eddie’s ear. 

“Please, sir.” Eddie says. His voice is so soft and so sweet, Richie has to take some pity on him. He hums, points the tip of the knife to press into the underside of Eddie’s chin, grabbing a fistful of his hair to pull his head back. 

“Sometimes I want to cut you open.” He says, and his voice sounds husky and deep, even to his own ears. Surely that’s something Eddie will appreciate. He glances down at Eddie’s legs, which are bare aside from his boxer briefs, and they’re so clean and pretty and pure. Richie can’t wait to taint them. He wraps his forearm around Eddie’s hips, tugging him as tight and as close as he can manage, and lets the blade of the knife slowly and gently travel down his body. When he reaches Eddie’s creamy, unblemished thighs, he slashes through one. The cut is so shallow it may as well be a cat scratch, but it makes Eddie wince nonetheless. He slices again and this time it’s deeper. A few drops of blood well from the cut. Richie collects them with his thumb. He’s mesmerized. There’s nothing quite as beautiful to him as the human body and all of the things that make it function. Eddie’s blood and his muscles and his skin and bones are all stunning and perfect and they all belong to Richie. Eddie is his and his alone, his body and all of its contents are for Richie to use for his own pleasure. 

“See that, sweetheart?” He asks, showing Eddie the blood that now stains the pad of his thumb. He cuts again before Eddie can answer, making him squeal and twitch in place. Richie has to steady him to make him keep still. “See how pretty you are? That came from  _ you, _ baby. That pretty red is all you.” Eddie whines and squirms in Richie’s lap. 

“Feels so good, sir.” He says, which is funny because so far all Richie’s done is hurt him. “More, please? I’ll do anything for you.” 

Oh.

_ Oh _ . 

That  _ vixen _ . 

He holds his thumb up to Eddie’s mouth, pressing ever so slightly against his lips. “Lick it.” He says, and Eddie does as he’s told -like a good boy. Richie groans when he feels his hot touch lightly press against the digit, tasting his own blood like it’s candy. God, it’s sick. He brings his lips back to the shell of Eddie’s ear. “I was thinking about shoving my big fucking cock in your mouth while I cut you up. I was thinking about getting to bone while I fuck your face.” He rolls up the sleeve of Eddie’s t-shirt, dragging the knife along the expanse of his arm, a trail of blood being left in its wake. “I wanna fuck you with my dick all lubed up with your blood. You’d look so pretty in red.” 

Eddie whines and shivers. His eyes are closed and his breathing is shallow. Richie’s thumb is still in his mouth like he’s terrified to let go. He kisses the side of Eddie’s neck, down to the tendon where his neck meets his shoulder and bites down, teeth digging harshly into his skin. Eddie yelps. 

“What, baby?” Richie asks. 

“That hurt.” Eddie says. 

“Aw,” Richie starts in mock sympathy. “Boo-hoo.” He lowers his voice, bringing his lips down to the spot he had just bit, clear teeth marks evident in the skin. “I don’t fucking care.” He bites the spot again, but softer this time. It’s tender, still, and Eddie still jumps. “I came thinking about you all bloody and messy, your body completely rearranged by me.” Eddie swallows thickly. 

“You want to kill me, sir?” He asks, and Richie feigns offense. 

“Of  _ course _ not baby, who else would I torture if not you?” At that, he slashes down Eddie’s arm again, perhaps overestimating his own strength and cutting just a  _ bit _ too deep. Eddie doesn’t seem to notice or care. He leans down, collecting the blood with his tongue. It tastes like copper. “I just don’t want you to forget what I’m capable of. Remember gorgeous,” he straightens, bringing the knife back to Eddie’s neck. “I  _ could _ kill you. If I wanted to.” 

Eddie sobs. “Please don’t.”

Richie laughs. “Be a good boy, then.” 

“Do you want me to suck your cock?” Eddie asks, and Richie laughs again. His grip on the knife loosens and he brings the blade down so it’s far from any lethal areas. 

“You mean my big, fat,  _ fucking  _ cock?”

“Yes.” Eddie says, and he’s not being humorous or facetious. His lower lip is trembling like he’s terrified. For some reason, that makes Richie feel good. “I want to suck your big fucking cock. I want your giant dick in my mouth. I want to swallow your cum, sir,  _ please _ .” Richie whistled low. He’s impressed with Eddie’s smooth talking. The little shit can be pretty charming when he wants to be. He nudges Eddie off the couch, positioning them so that he’s kneeled in front of Richie’s open legs. He pulls his dick out of his sleep shorts and it’s hard and big and it doesn’t seem to matter how many times Eddie’s seen it, he still always seems surprised and intimidated when he’s face to face with it. Richie doesn’t blame him. Dick this big is typically more of a challenge than a fun time. It’s really a curse, if Richie’s being honest. 

(Just kidding. There are no disadvantages to having a huge cock. Not a single one.) 

Eddie’s tentative and sweet when he licks it at first. He just pokes his tongue out and gives the head a soft little kitten lick. Richie grunts, unsatisfied with this, and pushes Eddie’s head down further, encouraging him to take more. He parts his lips, sucking the head into his mouth and letting his tongue toy around. Richie bucks his hips, trying to get more of his cock down Eddie’s throat. Seriously, enough with this shy, weak shit. He’s seen this boy take almost the entire thing in one swoop countless times. There’s no sense in being bashful now, not when he’s already squirming like a whore and covered in sticky red blood. Nah, this boy belongs to one Richie Tozier, and he better be fucking prepared to face that. 

Richie holds Eddie’s head in place and bucks his hips up again, shoving his cock deep into Eddie’s throat. He gags a bit, but ultimately handles himself very well as more and more of Richie’s cock gets shoved into his throat. He feels so good, his mouth is fucking phenomenal, and at this rate, Richie might cum in two minutes like a fucking loser. Eddie’s tongue is trying desperately to keep up with Richie’s movements, but it’s sloppy and really, a cute attempt. If circumstances were different, Richie might call him cute. But instead, he’s thinking about the feel of Eddie’s mouth around his dick, and how it’s warm and soft and wet, how his entire body feels like it’s on fire and how he wishes he could push his thumbs into Eddie’s eyes. He wonders what it would feel like to fuck his skull, to-

He cums before he can finish the thought. Eddie swallows it all like a good boy and looks up at Richie with innocent doe eyes. He’s so beautiful like that, lips all swollen and red, hair mused and eyes wet. He’s a beautiful little mess. Richie stares at him while he tries to catch his breath, but looking at Eddie,  _ his  _ Eddie, is only getting him worked up all over again. “C’mere.” He says and Eddie is quick to his feet. He climbs into Richie’s lap, straddling him, and Richie pulls him into a searing kiss. 

“You’re something else, babydoll.” He murmurs, and the pet name seems to make Eddie shy. He covers his face, which Richie clicks his tongue at and gently urges him to move his arms out of the way. “You want me to take care of you?” He asks. Eddie pauses, but ends up shaking his head. 

“I, uh,” He gestures to the front of his underwear, which is soaked. Richie can’t keep himself from grinning. 

“Huh.” He says, but doesn’t say anything else because now it’s aftercare time and Eddie already seems kind of embarrassed. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay babydoll?” 

Eddie nods. 

Within ten minutes, he’s in the bath, Richie crouched over him and gently cleaning all his little cuts and wounds. His face looks dreamy and far away. “Did you have fun, sweetheart?” Richie asks and Eddie nods. Richie smiles back at him. “Good.” 

After a few more moments, Eddie’s all clean. When he gets out of the bath, Richie wraps him in a big, fluffy towel and helps him dry off. They apply a generous amount of Aquaphor to the cuts. 

“How are you feeling?” Richie asks as they’re laying in bed, his fingertips softly tracing patterns in Eddie’s skin. 

“Good. I liked it a lot.” He says. 

“Yeah?” Richie asks. Eddie yawns widely. 

“Yeah.” He says. “But now I’m  _ so _ sleepy.”

They turn on Parks and Recreation. Richie allows his sweet, darling Eddie to slowly drift to sleep. 


End file.
